The Winter of His Little Sun
by TheHerringCalledOmnomnom
Summary: Rated T for language RusAme Alfred moves to Russia as an English teacher and by chance meets Ivan Braginski, a novelist. Fluffy romance!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Ivan sat in the local coffee shop munching on some pastries, sipping his hot tea. Watching the delicate snow cast a shimmer onto the streets of Moscow. People were taking strolls, viewing the sites of the capital city of Russia. Ivan relaxed against the chair.

The bells of the cafe door chimed as another patron walked in from the chilly air that had fallen upon the city. Sure, there were many people who had walked in, but this one seemed to make Ivan give him a second, brief glance.

The man had wheat colored hair that had snowflakes now melting away from the heat of the shop. His eyes were as blue as the flawless summer skies and his presence seemed to demand attention.

The coffee house was packed and he assessed the situation before finding an empty seat right across from Ivan.

"May I have this seat?" he asked in surprisingly good Russian, though it was obvious that he wasn't a native.

"Yes," Ivan responded going to take a sip of his tea. The steam rose from the mug and touched Ivan's partially chapped lips, letting the sting caress over his skin. He inhaled the bitter scent of the tea.

The kind waitress greeted the foreign man and asked for his order. The blond asked for coffee and the woman smiled and nodded, heading to get his request. Ivan and the stranger sat in a pleasant silence before the latter started speaking.

"Is it always this cold here?" the man asked, his gaze went from the window to ashen blond haired man in front of him.

"Only in the winter, though I wasn't expecting the snow today," Ivan commented on the random flurry that had started an hour or so ago. He looked down at the half eaten vatrushka he had ordered. The cottage cheese that had bits of apple in it was now pouring out of the pastry. He ripped off a piece of the bread and dipped it into the delicious blend.

"What's your name?" the foreigner asked.

"Ivan Braginski," Ivan replied and raised his eyebrows as if to ask the other man his name.

"I'm Alfred! Alfred eff Jones!" he said drawling out the F. He took his hand out of the bomber jacket his was wearing and lending it so the native man could shake it. Ivan took the icy, smooth hand of Alfred into his warmer and much larger grasp. They shook and Alfred gave the new acquaintance a warm grin.

"If you don't mind me asking, what are you doing in Moscow? It is obvious that you are not Russian," Ivan asked curiously.

"I actually got a job here teaching English to high school students. I wanted to go around the block a bit to see what was around and found this place. It looked cozy so I thought it'd be a cool place to stop and-" he stopped for a moment. "I'm sorry, I'm babbling."

"No, it's quite alright," Ivan said, amused at the smaller man. The waitress came back and handed Alfred the coffee. Alfred thanked her and handed the money to her. They sat in a comfortable silence, enjoying what they had ordered. Alfred was just getting used to the Russian cuisine, but thankfully coffee that every country seemed to have.

Alfred set his black coffee down on the napkin. "Uh, Ivan. I know we just meet and all. But, uh, could you show me around the city a bit?"

Ivan gave the man a closer inspection before deciding his final answer. His right brow raised in surprise and then the ash blond streaks of hair furrowed together. Should I take him around? Katjusa has been telling me to get out get out recently. I mean, how bad could it be?

"Sure Alfred. I'll take you out around Moscow." Ivan agreed to the man's proposal.

His eyes lit up in childish excitement and his smile seemed to grow even larger.

"Thanks so much Ivan!" He nearly shouted. Like the child he was, Alfred bounced up and down in his seat, hands clamped together into tight fists. "I want to go see the Kremlin and the Pashkov House!"

Ivan watched Alfred literally bounce up and down, listing multiple tourist destinations that he desperately needed to see.

"When would you like to do this?" Ivan asked after taking another sip of tea, which had cooled down a bit. Alfred stopped his bouncing and a serious look plastered his face.

"I work on the weekdays, obviously. But I'm sure I can get out on the weekends if I grade all the papers Friday night... So maybe next week? If that works with your schedule that is." Alfred took the first gulp of his coffee and sighed. He looked satisfied as he gazed out the window and watched the snow start sticking to the pavement.

Ivan was a full time writer. Already having published two novels, he was currently working on his third. So he was free most of the time.

"That sounds like it'll work." Ivan looked over to see the clock on the wall. 12:45 it read. Damn, he needed to get home. "We will me here? Around let's say 14?"

"Yeah, that sounds cool."

"If you excuse me, I must leave now." Ivan said getting back.

"Yeah that's fine," Alfred said before looking down at his watch. "Holy shit!" He swore loudly in English. "I have to get my lessons ready and I still have to finish the pretest for second mod." He pushed his chair back loudly and grabbed the disposable cup heading for the door.

Alfred pulled his coat closer to himself as he got outside. He waited impatiently for Ivan outside, tapping his foot rapidly. Ivan pulled his fitting, beige coat over himself and saw that the American was waiting for him. He raised his eyebrow and shook his head, but walked down the snowy sidewalk with Alfred.

Though Alfred seemed to be boisterous and obnoxious, he didn't seem that bad of a character. Katjusa said it would be better to have someone who was happier around. They could help me with creative ideas when I have writers block, Ivan thought to himself. And he could help edit and critique my work.

Alfred abruptly stopped walking and turned to Ivan.

"And this is where we part, my new friend," Alfred said giving a salute to Ivan before heading to the right.

"See you soon partner," Ivan said jokingly out loud to himself in nearly perfect English with a cowboy accent.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note (semi-important if you want to read lame excuses):**

**OMG I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I'm so sorry Imsosorry imsosorryimsosorryimsosorryimsosorry times a million. I've been busy over the summer (I went back to visit my family in my homeland) and just kinda dropped out of the Hetalia fandom. But I will still try to update! I promise! My grammar is not the best and my writing is cliché and I apologize for that sincerely. But how could you trust me, I left you for like ten billion months. And I'm taking a ton of AP classes this year and have to focus on my drawing a bit more since I'm going to do some exciting stuff! But thank you for reading, I barely thought anyone would read this, much less review. Idk how long this is going be, but I know that author's note is wayyyy too long. Sorry. **

**Disclaimer: I don't, nor ever will own Hetalia. And I am not making any sort of profit off of this. **

Alfred was ecstatic. He had a new friend! Or at least someone to show him around Moscow.

In all seriousness, Alfred got confused by the new city that was becoming his home. He had only managed to find his the cafe by pure luck. And it was luck that was going to get him back to his new home, hopefully. The bubbly blond got on the bus that would take him a little farther out of town, or so he hoped it would.

People filled the public vehicle, making Alfred tuck his feet closer to himself so no one would trip over his stylish boots he had purchased before going to Russia.

An older woman shuffled over to the seat next to Alfred, her keen blue eyes inspecting everyone on the bus. She sat down with a tired huff and muttered a few select words before leaning back onto the seat and holding her purse tightly.

Alfred's lips pursed together as he tried to remember the landmarks he had saw on his way into the city. There was the bakery on the left and the flower shop before that. Or was the bakery before the flower shop? Or was the bakery actually the butchers?

_Oh my god_, Alfred thought running his hand through his hair. His left leg started bouncing up and down in worry.

"Stop that," the voice next to him snapped quietly.

"What?" Alfred asked shocked that someone else had spoken to him.

"The leg bouncing, it's quite annoying," the woman said scrutinizing Alfred before she questioned him again. "You're the new American boy who moved across the street from me?"

"Y-yes, I am." Alfred managed to spit out in Russian. He had no idea who this woman

was. But if it was going to get him back home, he was willing to go along with it.

"My granddaughter would not stop talking about the handsome foreigner who was moving things into his house by himself. 'Babushka, babushka! We should help the man!' She said. Bah! She should be studying for college instead of staring at men all day long," the older woman said swatting her hand around.

_This lady lives across the street from me apparently, so I'll just follow her home! God that sounds creepy_. Alfred made a sour face and shuddered as he realized at what he had just thought.

"What is she studying?" Alfred asked trying to make conversation with the woman. She seemed like one of those people you don't want to be on their bad side.

"She's her last year of high school but is set on becoming a novelist like that Ivan Braginski man. Girl's got her head in the clouds. The only reason anyone got his books is because his sisters. His older sister is a psychologist and his younger sister is a lawyer. They are both famous and get way too much attention. So when the middle Braginski child announced a book everyone went to go buy it." The woman huffed even more, letting go of her grip on her purse to wave her hands in more exaggerated motions.

Alfred looked at her carefully and then thought about Ivan. Was that the same Ivan he was talking to? He knew Ivan was a popular Russian name, but was Braginski a common last name. Or was Ivan Braginski just a pseudonym name for the author?

While his mind mulled over theories he had conceived from the older woman's gossip, she had stood up. Babushka started making her way over to the exit when Alfred snapped out of his thoughts. Quickly he stood and followed her out of the bus, hopefully they were getting off in the right neighborhood.

The bus doors squeaked slightly as the opened, letting Alfred and Babushka out. The click of Babushka's short heels were muffled by the snow covered pavement. The older woman's brows raised as she saw Alfred walking beside her.

"Boy, don't you need to go home?" She asked adjusting her purse strap on her shoulder.

"Yes," Alfred said looking away from the houses that seemed to be hugging each other.

"Then why did you get off there? I'm going to the market and then to the bookstore to get my granddaughter some books," Babushka asked.

"O-oh, I'm also going to the bookstore. I decided once I moved here I should expand my literature and read some Russian books," Alfred managed to come up with an excuse. "I could also help you carry the groceries," he offered.

Babushka twisted her lips in brief thought and then gave a toothy smile to declare that she accepted.

"Then let us go! I have much to do and little time. Ah, I still need to prepare dinner for tonight!" She said, racking her brain of any ideas on what to make. "I shall make kotlety tonight."

Alfred nodded and then thought of his dinner. He had a few cans of soup in the cabinets and some apples he had purchased when he arrived a week ago. He could make some soup or if he could find a McDonald's that would be totally awesome. Maybe Ivan knew where one is! _Totally asking him ne-_"Boy! Did you not hear me the first four times I asked you what your name was?' Babushka huffed raising her hands, interrupting Alfred's train of thought.

"S-sorry. My name is Alfred F. Jones," Alfred properly greeted the woman he had been talking to for the past fifteen minutes. "What is your name?"

"My name is Anneli Verochka, but you may call me Baba Anna," she said giving him a small smile. "Can you walk any faster? We _must_ to get to the market before all the fresh produce are gone. The good meat from the butchers will be gone if we don't get there first." Her pace quickened and Alfred's strides had to grow longer so he could keep up with her.

The market space took up about three or four streets, with booths set up on each side. Small shops stood between the merchants, hosting a comfortable place to escape the cold air. Baba Anna went towards the butchers as quickly as her legs could take her.

The door swung open wide as she pushed with her might. The cow bells strung up gave a few lazy clangs. Alfred hastily grabbed the door before it could slam into his face. They were the first two customers to arrive and Baba Anna gave a smug smirk.

Dried meats were strung up on above the sides of the counter and the displays showed sausages and a few assorted cheeses. The metallic smell of blood seemed to overwhelm the room. Alfred looked up to see an enormous man with muscles thicker than Alfred's skull. He had an apron over his dark clothes and held a meat cleaver in his left hand. The dark hair that covered his head was starting to recede and become wispy. His thin, chapped lips were forming a scowl. His eyes were an unfriendly, metallic hue.

Alfred was startled by the man's seemingly dark vibe and slowly made his way to hide behind Baba Anna, who was browsing the fresh meats in the refrigerated display.

"Son, do you have any clue about what personal space is? Or do they not teach you that in America?" Baba Anna asked pushing Alfred away with her elbow. Alfred bounced right back to her, contemplating on if he should hold her arm or not.

"He's scary," Alfred stated in a hushed tone.

"Do not be a child. Now come, I found what I needed." She walked over to the counter where the man was standing, sharpening his knife.

"Markov. If you'd be a dear, could you give me a pound of ground beef and half a pound of pork," Baba Anna asked the man politely.

The man did something that absolutely shocked Alfred. He flip flopping smiled. And it wasn't creepy or anything, like 'I'm going to kill you and feast on your flesh'. It was kind and dare I say a little jovial.

_What?!_ Alfred nearly shouted aloud, his eyes bulging out of his sockets. How could such a terrifying man have an amazing smile?

"Anything for you Baba Anna," he said before turning around and going into the back of his shop. His voice was hearty and cheerful.

_I don't think that this can get any weirder, _thought Alfred.

Markov returned with meat in two different bags and handed them to Baba Anna. She gave a smile and started digging through her small, leather purse.

Markov leaned against the countertop and looked over Alfred.

"Is this a family member, Anna?" He asked.

"No, no. Though he is handsome enough and looks like little Dragan doesn't he? He's from America Markov," she said pulling out a few paper bills.

"America. Say boy, why'd you come to Russia then?" Markov asked taking the bills from Baba Anna.

Alfred took a deep breath and tried to gain control over his voice so it wouldn't tremble.

"I got a job teaching English here," he explained. Markov raised his brows and nodded. He took the bills and put them in his register, handing Baba Anna a few coins back.

"I wish you luck then." He turned his gaze from Alfred to Anna again. "I will see you later this week I presume."

"You shall. Thank you Markov," she said, the coins making a clunking noise as they fell into her bag. "Let's go Alfred." She handed Alfred the bag to carry around.

"Good bye!" Markov said waving before heading back behind the counter.

"See, he wasn't scary at all," Baba Anna scolded Alfred. His cheeks became a slightly darker shade of red from embarrassment.

"Yeah, whatever," Alfred huffed.

For the next hour or so, the pair wandered the market. They peered into the shops and purchased more items for Alfred to carry around. The snow continued to descend down from the sky. Alfred's hand grew even paler and he had to curl his fingers constantly so they could remain not completely frozen. It seemed like forever until Baba Anna decided to go home. By then Alfred had about six or seven bags in each hand.

"I think we have bought enough food to last for two weeks!" Baba exclaimed waving her hands upwards.

"Yeah, we sure have," Alfred said wiggling his fingers causing the bags to sway.

"Let's go home, son," she said and started her way back towards the bus stop. They waited patiently at the stop, Alfred making small talk with Baba Anna about things like the weather and neighborhood.

The bus chugged to a slow stop and let the two travelers on. They sat near the front of the bus, letting the silence settle between them. The snow had left Alfred cold and his clothing soaked. The fabric scratched his skin, his socks were squishy and his hands felt like fish sticks. But for whatever reason he was… He was content.

They got off the bus together in front of Baba Anna's house. Alfred's new home was directly across from hers. They walked up the icy sidewalk to her front door. Her house was a pale cream color that contrasted with the dark roof. There were a few small evergreen trees planted beside the road, which the snow had long covered.

She knocked on the pastel green door loudly, a loud clatter came from the inside of the house. The door swung open and a young girl about seventeen stood in front of the pair. Her hair was a lighter shade of Alfred's and styled in a nonchalant updo. Unlike her grandmother, her eyes were a warm shade of brown.

"Baba! You finally came back! School let out an hour ago and I was wondering where you were!" She exclaimed shooing her grandmother inside from the cold. Alfred stood awkwardly as Baba Anna rolled her eyes and took off her jacket.

The young girl's lips made a thin, pink line once she finished scolding her elder. Her eyes turned to Alfred and inspected him, just like her grandmother had earlier.

"Who are you?" She pondered.

Before Alfred could reply, Baba Anna spoke instead.

"That's Alfred dear. The young American who moved in the other week. You remember him right?" She raised a brow and motioned Alfred to come in.

Babushka's granddaughter moved aside and let the guest inside. Her cheeks had flushed and she lowered her head trying to hide it.

"I remember," she mumbled and then shut the door behind Alfred.

The house was small and gave of a comfortable 'home sweet home' aura The gray wallpaper etched with intricate designs looked prim. Paintings hung everywhere in the house. There were small piles of canvas lying around the floor, with paint brushes and different types of paints nestled amongst them.

"Come on Alfred! Set the bags down on the kitchen table." Alfred put the bags on the kitchen table and gave a sigh of relief.

"Alfred this is my granddaughter Matrona."

"Nice to meet you Matrona," Alfred said extending his cold hand to Matrona merrily. Though she seemed hesitant her warm, smaller hand grabbed his tightly and shook it.

"Nice to meet you Alfred," she said giving a small smile, still a little flustered.

"I don't mean to impose Baba Anna, but I should get going now," Alfred said.

"If you want to, but next time you must stay for dinner," Baba Anna declared. He grinned and started heading for the door.

"See you two later," Alfred said before he exited. Matrona had followed him to the front door.

"Usually she would insist that you have to stay for dinner," she said leaning against the door frame. "But you got off the hook. Lucky."

Alfred chuckled at the younger girl's statement and gave a small wave. He turned around as she waved back and headed across the street. He checked both sides of the street for oncoming cars, twice, and the jogged over to his house.

The blond fished for the keys that were in his jeans and pulled them out with a victorious, "Ha!" The door clicked gave a click and Alfred pushed it open.

The interior of the house was still a mess. Boxes and packing peanuts were scattered all over the floor. Jumping over a few of the said boxes, Alfred raced upstairs towards his room.

He swung open the door and belly flopped onto his- floor.

"Fuck!" He howled as his body made a loud thud sound. He completely forgot that he didn't have a bed in his room but a pull out couch that was tucked in the corner of the room.

Being too lazy to get up again and in too much pain, Alfred rolled over onto his back. Even though he had just recently moved into this house, he had plastered all his posters across his ceiling. The American flag was right behind the TV that was centered in the middle of the room. He'd have to go out and buy furniture soon. Maybe Baba or Ivan now a furniture shop..

Alfred pulled himself up reluctantly and tugged at the couch. It unfolded causing one of the bars to almost crush Alfred's foot. The blonde grabbed the pillow he had managed to smush between the mattresses and tried to get it back to its original state. Placing the pillow he had received from the plane ride under his armpit, Alfred went to go find his pajamas. His Captain America pj bottoms had been thrown into a corner along with the old blanket he had found stowed away in the corner of a closet. Rummaging through the mess of his room, the teacher found a suitable shirt for nightwear.

Alfred went down the hall into the bathroom and got ready for bed. Before he went to go hit the hay, Alfred went around and checked that the windows and doors were all securely shut.

Running upstairs again he this time managed to not crash into the floor, but instead into the 'bed' that creaked under his weight. Alfred nestled snugly in the blankets and let the dream world wash over him.


End file.
